


the one with the british popstars in beacon hills

by snsk



Category: One Direction (Band), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 04:39:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4006168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snsk/pseuds/snsk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Maybe it's Pre-Moon Syndrome," Harry offered.</p><p>Or:</p><p>Derek's teaching style, Stiles reflected, had much mellowed since Scott's disastrous first lessons. There wasn't even any "you'll have to quit your girlfriend and your sport and your family and your life and live with me in an abandoned train" that had so characterized the early Derek Hale he and Scott knew so well. It was excellent progress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the one with the british popstars in beacon hills

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm going through my drafts and I find this... Enjoy what will probably be the last 1D or TW thing I post ily all

"Listen, man," Stiles said encouragingly, "you can totally take him, no problem."

Scott still looked a bit uncertain.

"You got that true alpha shit, bro!" Sometimes Scott needed reminding, see. Stiles wished Derek was here. He'd been giving amazing Scott-McCall-For-Leader-Of-The-Free-World speeches ever since he'd returned and declared himself President of the Scott McCall Fanclub.

"I don't got that true alpha fighting shit, though," Scott pointed out. It was a valid concern. Scott fought fairly well, but he fought like a beta, none of that easy confidence and swagger that Peter, that the Alpha pack, that Derek had in spades. 

"You just need practice," Stiles assured him.

"Louis," said Liam Payne, Liam freakin' Payne, tugging at Louis Tomlinson, Louis freakin' Tomlinson's arm, "Louis, are you sure this is the greatest idea?"

God, they sounded so... British. Stiles delighted in it. Or he would have, at least, if One Direction, biggest boyband on the planet, hadn't stormed into Beacon Hills and challenged Scott to a violent, bloody face-off.

Their posters were on Scott's walls, for fuck's sake. It was a travesty. A surreally ridiculous tragedy.

"Payno, I told you, we have to duel the alpha otherwise they'll see us as easy pickings and we'll be dead meat, dead on American soil, nonetheless, which might delight Harry but I'm not going to let myself--"

This distracted Stiles sufficiently enough to cut himself off mid-pep talk. "Where'd you hear that? That's not even halfway true."

Louis Tomlinson scowled at him. "You'd say it wasn't true. You're part of their pack."

"Listen, I don't know what you've been told, but you guys don't needa fight Scotty unless you wanna steal the whole true alpha thing he's got going on, in which case you'll have to slice his neck open, which-- please don't, I've got you on my iPod."

Harry Styles-- Harry freakin' Styles-- paled, and stepped forward to touch Louis freakin' Tomlinson's wrist. Stiles noticed this-- it was a thing with werewolves, every touch meant something to them, and Stiles had learnt to be observant. Harry freakin' Styles' touch made Louis freakin' Tomlinson's eyes flash back to a human blue, made him look back in a way that Liam freakin' Payne's touch hadn't been able to.

"Lou, how 'bout we just listen to the guy," Harry Styles said. "I don't fancy our throats being sliced open today."

"He's got a point," Derek said, appearing out of the undergrowth, striding towards them, complete with leather jacket and unfriendly-strangers-abound! frown.

Stiles stifled a snort, and all seven werewolves turned to him. "Oh, nothing," he said. "Of course Derek would be in my preteen dream."

Derek looked unreasonably worried, which was a look he wore often enough these days around Stiles. Even his dad had stopped treating him like fragile glass, but Derek still fretted. Stiles still wasn't sure whether it was hilarious or annoying. 

"This isn't a dream, Stiles," Derek said, carefully.

"Of course it's not, you're in it," Stiles said, flippantly and immaturely enough that Derek stopped looking worried, and started looking more I take it all back, I wish the evil Japanese spirit had disposed of you quicker. He turned his attention to One freakin' Direction, who were staring avidly back at him, which Stiles couldn't really blame them for. Derek did kind of rival them in the male model category.

"You're freshly turned," Derek said, not a question.

"Yeah," Niall freaking Horan, Scott's favourite, heh, grinned. Stiles didn't particularly know why he was grinning, Derek was wearing his Grade Two murderous expression, the one he reserved for strange omegas and Stiles ordering his second least favourite topping. Not particularly effective on Stiles anymore, but proven completely well on those who didn't know Derek Hale, made them quake in their boots. Not, apparently, Niall freakin Horan. Stiles supposed if you were wearing three thousand dollar Supras you couldn't be bothered to quake. "Less than forty-eight hours! Jumped on a plane straight here."

"Why," Derek said, also not a question.

"Tommo here looked up some shit," Niall Horan said, clapping a wolfed-out Louis Tomlinson on the shoulder all amused and bro-like, completely ignoring the fangs and claws. Stiles hadn't been able to stop staring at Scott's crazy golden eyes for a week after he'd been turned, but he supposed international popstars lived by different bro codes. "Asked around, heard of you guys, like: most respected pack in California, things you've done, figured you were the best t'ask advice on this whole furry thing from!"

"Furry thing," Derek repeated flatly.

"So you jumped straight on a sixteen-hour flight," Scott marveled.

"You want advice from us?" Stiles asked. "Us." Us, who'd given up on making Plans long ago and whose only semblance of strategy was now, "chill, we'll wing it."

"Why are you completely giving us away, Niall?" Louis Tomlinson asked, annoyed. "We gotta do this whole fight thingy so we don't look like complete wimps!"

Derek sighed, long-suffering in the face of horribly misinformed teenagers. "That's completely wrong information, you don't need to challenge a territory's alpha to show that you're-- worthy, or whatever it is you think you're doing. You just need to show respect, and any reasonable alpha will help you."

"Are you lying to us right now?"

"Lou, you can hear his heart rate, you know he's not lying."

"Maybe he can control it."

"Can you control it, then?"

"He's been a wolf longer, maybe they know all these fuckin' tricks."

"Or maybe," Zayn freaking Malik, quiet all the while, finally put in, "we could just trust them for a bit. To teach us these fucking tricks. Instead of rushing half-arsed into some kind of life or death tussle--"

"--which could end with our throats slit," Harry Styles interjected, still wide-eyed. 

"What's your obsession with that?" Louis Tomlinson demanded. "Fine. But if they lead us to an an abandoned warehouse and cut us all into little pieces cos we didn't prove we're badass I'm blaming you lot."

He shifted back into human, which was actually pretty impressive. It'd taken Scott like, three whole days to learn to control that properly.

Stiles realised he was using Scott as a yardstick, which. Even if Scott was kind of a wolf god now, his transition had been the epitome of slow learner.

"Oh, cool!" Scott said, interrupting Stiles' fond memories of almost being clawed to death on the full moon. "We don't have to fight? God, that's awesome, I had Midnight Memories on repeat for days, I was so bummed when Stiles and I couldn't go to WWA, like, shit--"

He led the way through the forest, charming One Freaking Direction with extremely unnecessary tales of his and Stiles' failed attempts at getting black market mosh pit tickets. 

So Stiles also had a fucking poster. Whatever. It was a teenage thing. You weren't a teenager if you didn't have a hidden in your closet glossy close up of five grinning, boyish, just that side of innocent faces. Whatever.

"Stiles," Derek said, and Harry Styles turned.

Louis Tomlinson raised a suspicious, even-more-perfectly-groomed-than-Lydia eyebrow.

"That's me," Stiles said hastily, before Louis could wolf out again. "Not you, don't worry. Yeah, big guy. I'm right here."

"How does Scott know them?" Derek asked.

"Dude," Stiles said, in lieu of a reply. "Do you-- not? I thought you were just playing it cool."

Derek quirked an eloquent eyebrow, not as meticulously groomed but infinitely more expressive. 

"One Direction," Stiles said, gesturing wildly. "British boyband? International pop stars."

"Who?"

In front of them, Niall let out a loud guffaw. "I like this guy," he called out approvingly.

"Don't eavesdrop," Liam hissed at him.

"It's not like I can help it, Li," Niall said unapologetically. 

"I'll explain it to you later," Stiles assured Derek. They'd reached the abandoned Hale house, which the pack only used for a training point now. In the slow, filtering golden evening light, it looked depressing and lonely and charred.

Louis let out a long low moan. "It's not a warehouse, it's a house," he said sadly. "They're going to kill us in a abandoned, creepy house."

"Dude, that dude's family died in this house," Scott said unsubtly, jerking a thumb to where Derek was looking Grade Four murderous. "Find some chill."

"That's even creepier," Louis said instead.

"Lou," Harry said, digging fingers into Louis' ribs. "C'mon."

Louis sighed. "Sorry," he said. "I'm hyped up. I'm jittery. I'm being an arse, I know."

"Maybe it's Pre-Moon Syndrome," Harry offered. 

There was an awkward silence all around to commemorate that truly terrifying not-joke, but it made Louis quirk up a bit of a smile and a roll of his eyes, which was maybe, Stiles reflected, what Harry had been going for. 

"Nobody's killing anybody," Derek said. "We're going to teach you to properly control the shift. Which your alpha should have done. Who bit you?"

They exchanged glances. "We don't really have one," Louis said finally.

"The guy who bit us, we rejected him as alpha," Harry said.

Nobody seemed to want to continue.

"If you killed him, that's okay," Stiles said soothingly. "We're a judgement-free zone. Many alphas killed here."

"No, Zayn'd never let us," Louis said sadly.

"Or Haz," Niall said, but looked reflective. "Nah, if Louis convinced him it was for the best he would."

"Can we not with the killing talk," Liam said, looking pained. "We're trying not to look like feral psychotic wolves here."

"Hey, you learned a new word."

"Shut up, Tommo."

"Funny story, actually," Niall said, still grinning, "we thought they were fuckin' high-- we were, anyway-- so we were like oh okay sure let's be werewolves to humor them, and we woke up the next morning with these huge ass bite marks which healed in like 2.5, then we realised about that whole having an alpha thing, and it was a Management dude, and we weren't having any of that shit--"

"They already control too much of our lives," Liam put in. "So we like, severed the bond in our heads? It was really painful. They're really pissed."

"Kept going on about how we'd never make it on our own," Louis sniffed, flicking his fringe out of his eyes.

"So Lou did some research, found you guys all the way over here," Harry announced, all proud.

"Far away from those idiots," Zayn said, rolling his eyes.

Stiles was impressed.

"I'm impressed," he told Derek.

"Doesn't take much," Derek said. "Alright, so. Scott, you wanna deal with this?"

Scott looked horribly disappointed. "I can't, fuck, gotta go for Chemistry tuition. I'll be back in like two hours. Don't leave," he told everybody. "Derek, be nicer than you were with me."

Derek frowned. "You want me to teach them?"

"'Course I do. You're good at this," Scott said easily, and Stiles watched a look of quick, pleased surprise sneak across Derek's face. It always appeared when Scott trusted him with something now, treated him like a brother. Stiles would feel envious, but then Scott McCall had that effect on everyone.

Also, getting to make Derek snort undignifiedly at a smart-assed remark he hadn't expected to find amusing always felt like winning a different kind of lottery. 

Scott left, knuckle-knocking Stiles and telling Zayn not to go before he autographed his album.

"So you've got your transformation down," Derek announced. "But you haven't tried controlling your shift when you're under extreme emotion." Derek had the whole foreboding speech thing down to a pat. "This is going to hurt."

"Great," Louis said. "More pain."

"You need to find an anchor," Derek said. "Something to hold on to. Something that keeps your human side in control."

"What, like in Inception?" Liam asked. "Like a metal thing you have to hold?"

"No, it's emotional, not physical," Stiles said. "Like Isaac's was his dad, and Derek's is anger."

"Used to be anger," Derek corrected.

"Used to-- what is it now?"

Derek ignored him. "Something that tethers you to your human side. Something that means more to you than anything else."

"Das deep," Niall intoned.

"Thanks, Ni," Louis told him, "truly summary. Much concise."

"You're being an a utter twat again, Lou," Zayn said. He looked interested. "What if you, like. Get it wrong?"

"As long as whatever it is, whoever it is, means enough for you to stay human, you can't get it wrong." 

Derek's teaching style, Stiles reflected, had much mellowed since Scott's disastrous first lessons. There wasn't even any "you'll have to quit your girlfriend and your sport and your family and your life and live with me in an abandoned train" that had so characterized the early Derek Hale he and Scott knew so well. It was excellent progress.

Obviously Stiles was then proven wrong when a decidedly unmellowed Derek announced: "So who wants to be tortured first?"

One Direction exchanged glances.

"I'll go," said Liam bravely and self-sacrificingly.

"Don't be stup1d, Payne," Louis said, smacking him across the ear with the back of his hand when Liam took a brave and self-sacrificing step forward. "I didn't bring you lot here so you could get tortured before I've even had a chance to check it out." To Derek, he said: "Bring it on, man."

Derek raised an eyebrow. This meant, what a reckless idiot, why is he in my general vicinity. Stiles was intimately acquainted with that eyebrow.

"You're one to talk," he said to Derek, on reflex.

The rest of the boy band-- man, Stiles wished Isaac was here instead of on sabbatical with Allison and Chris in France, he was an even bigger stan than Scott, Stiles had once found an unfinished Word Document on his laptop titled Pegging Fic and read it halfway through before Isaac had burst into the room and cradled his laptop to his chest like a baby and threatened to disembowel Stiles with his bare claws if he ever breathed a word of this to anyone-- anyway, the rest of the boy band turned to him, confused, but Derek had the slight smile on, his real one, 'cause he knew why Stiles had accidentally replied, 'cause it was their thing, and there it was, the lottery right there.

But. Anyway. "Let's go get you set up," Stiles said, before he could do something stupid like smile back stupidly at Derek forever.

The torture devices in the Hale house were dusty, because everybody had been in control for some time now. "You don't have to do this," Stiles reminded them. "You could just train with us for a while."

Zayn shook his head ruefully. "We don't have time," Louis said. "We've got, like, tour in a month. Just put us through the debilitating excruciating pain and be done with it."

Liam frowned at him. It was the same frown Scott used on Stiles in the cafeteria that Monday after Stiles had cracked a joke about the nogitsune and penetration, which meant do not play fast and flippant about bros being in debilitating excruciating pain. It was nice to know that some things were universal.

Derek sighed, looked down at the chest, looked up at Stiles. "We don't have to use this," he said. "If the rest of you can help hold him down. The torture thing. It seems a bit overboard. My mother, she said only if it was necessary."

Look, progress. Stiles felt inordinately proud.

So that was how they ended up on the forest floor again, Derek twisting Louis' arm behind his back, Stiles trying to keep the rest away, Niall looking inadvertently interested, if squeamish, Liam making squeaky sounds like "what if he passes out," and Zayn turning away, biting his lip.

Harry's eyes were wide and distressed, stepping neatly out of Stiles' arms' reach to move closer. Louis' were flashing gold and back, his claws and canines lengthening and retracting erratically; he was gritting his teeth and struggling against Derek's hold.

"You're losing control," Derek told him. "All your wolf wants to do is go wild with it, all you're going to do is attack me. Take a deep breath, find your anchor, get ahold of yourself. And then you can think, and then you can heal."

Louis spat: "Pretty sure it's not my wolf that wants to shove a sword up your--" The rest of the words were swallowed in a growl, Louis' eyes fully molten now. He snapped and bit at Derek, all wild, feral strength. Derek kept his grip firm.

"You have to think of-- go away," Derek said, at the same time Harry kneeled like an idiot in front of him, only centimeters away, and said, "Lou," still looking a bit upset but mostly fascinated.

Louis looked up at Derek, looked at Harry. Made a low, threatening sound in the back of his throat, managed to slip out of Derek's grasp. Then, before anybody could blink, he'd knocked Harry over, onto his back, was crouching over him. Harry hadn't had enough time to transform. If Louis clawed out his throat now in one wild, swift motion, that would probably be it. 

And then Louis was clamping his fangs down onto skin.

Stiles had this weird suspended moment where his only thought was what are we going to tell Scott, then his brain started racing again, going oh shit oh shit more murder and trying to think of something that could explain away international popstar Louis Tomlinson severely accidentally mauling to death his equally famous bandmate Harry Styles. He shot a panicked look at Derek, who was crouched, about to spring forward and haul Louis off. Fuck, Derek was going to blame himself for Harry Styles' mauling, as if the dude didn't already have enough problems.

And then Harry was laughing, batting ineffectually at Louis' cheek. "Idiot," he was saying, affectionately. Louis' mouth came away all saliva-dripping, but there was no blood, no sad remains of Harry's nose dangling from his teeth.

Derek had frozen. He was relaxing now, tense posture loosening, muttering "mate," which registered with Stiles as amusing, did being around British people force Derek to adopt their slang?

"You," Zayn said, starting forwards, pushing past Stiles, "nearly gave them a fucking heart attack. And us, we thought for a sec you'd actually snapped." He shoved at Louis, who only slumped himself over Harry, hiding his face into Harry's chest to avoid Zayn's abuse. And then it clicked.

"Wait," Stiles said, pointing uselessly at them. "You're his anchor. His--"

"His mate," Derek filled in, and. Oh. Right. That made much better sense.

"Mate," said Harry happily from the ground. "I like that word."

"Don't go on about it," Louis said, rolling his eyes. "He gets broody," he explained to the rest.

"But. Like, Larry Stylinson, that's a real thing?" Stiles said, still slow on the uptake. "A canon thing. Fuck! Scott owes Isaac, like, fifty bucks. He thought you guys were just playing."

Derek was staring at him. "I thought you didn't know these people."

"Shh, sweetie, I'll get back to you," Stiles assured him, still fascinated. "So how long have you been together? Since TXF? Or after UAN, I can totally get that. Oh my god, Elounor, what."

Derek made a frustrated noise, no doubt at the random acronyms, but Louis beat him to it, looking uncomfortable. "You aren't going to say anything, are you?"

"I think you should be more worried about him saying things about your fur and claws," Zayn said tartly.

"No, I'm not," Stiles said. "Who'd believe me, anyway? Except can I tell Scott, he'll flip."

"We're together, yeah," Harry said suddenly and decisively, still trapped under Louis. "Going on four years now."

Louis looked down at him like he wanted to say something, but apparently decided not to, just bent down to brush his lips over Harry's left eyelid. Harry smiled, slow and quiet.

"Oh, this is awesome," Stiles said. "You have to read Isaac's fic."

 

After that revelation, it didn't come as much of a surprise when Harry's anchor turned out to be Louis, but it was kind of ridiculous, how easily Harry gained control over his wolf. The power of True Love, who knew. Certainly not Stiles. Stiles commiserated this whole sorry situation for a bit.

Niall's was a long-winded not entirely coherent happy memory of family time in Ireland, which his band mates interrupted his recounting of. Liam's was his dog, apparently. Which was cute, but kind of. Well. Depressing.

Zayn refused to tell his, but Stiles caught him ducking his head, avoiding Liam's eye. One Direction, as it turned out, was sort of pretty messy. Stiles decided not to get into that.


End file.
